If you can go to the hairdresser again after 587 days

With my pants down then: I got my last haircut in November (!) from Rob Peetoom Rob Peetoom himself. He told me then that this style, but two centimeters longer, was my ideal cut. Well, you could say that those extra centimeters have at least been achieved. I suspect that thanks to his magic it’s still sitting there and not permanently hanging like a haystack by my face. I serum and dry shampoo the whole thing on a daily basis, but the situation is as follows: too long, too dark, too dead at the bottom and overall just way too much. It’s even so long that it doesn’t fit in the frame during a video call anymore, and that says something in my case.

I’m the type: postpone your hairdresser visit for as long as possible. Why, I actually don’t know, because I’m really crazy about going to the hairdresser. If I have to choose between a massage or the hairdresser washing my hair, I’d probably choose the latter. During my ideal hairdresser visit, I put my phone on ‘do not disturb’, bring a good book, and talk little. I suspect that’s why I’m also the most unsociable visitor imaginable. My apologies for that.  

Actually, I was supposed to go in February, but in February it was carnival and then I stuff my mane under a wig or hat every weekend (and spend all my money on this hobby). The need to go to a salon felt a bit less urgent than usual. I wish I had done it, guys, because just when I wanted to book, every hairdresser closed their doors. Of course, a week after the hospitality sector, but honestly: during that week, a visit to the hairdresser felt a bit less appropriate. Because the cabinet seemed to have forgotten the salons, and then you mainly hold your breath in such a chair, which makes cutting and coloring little relaxing.

And now, 587 days or so it feels at least, I can go again. Only now I’m almost too scared to go again, because what a mess is happening on top of my head. One takes a bush, gives it too little water at first and then suddenly way too much and lets it stand in the full sun for a long time. Something like that. I also suspect that once I sit in the chair, I won’t want to leave because I’m (silently of course) ecstatic with joy and that they’ll just throw me into the Elandsgracht at closing time tomorrow night. I can already see the headlines: Hair salon Rob Peetoom is forced to push woman into the canal because she refuses to leave. A very long title now that I read it back, maybe it will be: Hairdresser pushes woman into the canal.

One thing we can agree on: a man (and woman) doesn’t know what he’s missing, but when she/he is not there, a man/woman only then knows what he’s missing. Because I’ve seen a lot of haircuts come by, from Kiki’s bangs to buzz cuts and someone who would cut their son’s hair themselves. It’s craftsmanship, that much is clear.

Oh, I’m so looking forward to it…